Abandon
by weirdprince
Summary: The city outside is still and quiet and boring and Puck can't think of anywhere in the vast universe or any of its many planes of existence he'd rather be than right where he is, plowed firmly into David's desk in the office of the Eyrie Building.


_**Abandon**_

It is after several hours of clicking away at the computer that Owen realizes he hasn't blinked in about thirty minutes and the screen is beginning to make his eyes turn bloodshot from the strain. Removing his glasses, he brings a hand to his face and pinches the bridge of his nose.

This body feels human things like hunger, fatigue. It requires food, rest, rejuvenation.

 _Maintenance_ , he thinks dryly, leaning back in the chair and feeling stiff, tight muscles burn from being held in the same position for so long. It's easy to forget just how much of it Owen's body requires in order to function adequately, even after performing the role for several years. Several years is a mere blip in the life of a fae, after all.

Owen hesitates as a thought blooms in his mind. He glances toward the door, then back to the computer screen, studying his data entry without reading it.

Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to … shed this form, if just for a few minutes. Just until he felt he had enough energy to perform his job better. Isn't that what he is supposed to do in every role? Execute it to the best of his ability?

It was all for Mr. Xanatos, of course. And that was a reward all its own.

Owen pointedly ignores the slight jump in his pulse at the thought.

Besides, it had been weeks, at least, since he'd been in his natural form, and maintaining Owen's body did take a toll if he didn't permit himself to take a short break once in awhile.

Where was the harm?

Owen allows himself a small smile as the human's body breaks down in clouds of colored smoke, revealing the much smaller, more slender figure that is innate to him. Magical energy causes his form to hover above the chair for a moment, but with a long sigh it slowly lowers back into the seat, long limbs stretching over the arms on either side. White hair trails down his shoulders, over his tunic, and his runs nimble fingers through it as he sighs, finally relaxed.

Finally Puck.

The fae shifts in the chair until he's found a reasonably comfortable position, arms folded behind his head, and lets his eyes drift closed. With so much of his energy no longer channeled into keeping a mask in place, Puck can breathe easier, allow his thoughts to drift in a way that Owen's never do.

And drift they do, for a while, though they circle back around, as they always do, to Mr. Xanatos.

He isn't afraid to admit to people when prompted; Xanatos is the most fascinating human he's ever encountered. It's the only reason Puck has remained at his side for this long.

Well. Perhaps it isn't the only reason.

A white eyebrow twitches. Ah, those _feelings_ again. He'd naively wished that they were only a part of existing as Owen, not Puck.

It seems the line between the two is not quite as solid as Puck would like to think.

The feelings in question are … difficult to describe. Is he intrigued by Xanatos? Absolutely. Fascinated, entranced, completely drawn to him in a way Puck never anticipated would come from a human? Undoubtedly.

There is another layer, there, however. One he both doesn't fully understand and doesn't want to acknowledge. Not because Puck is often in the business of denying the truth, but because the truth, this time, is simply too …

Human.

"Haven't seen _you_ in a while."

Puck startles back to full alertness, not even aware that he had dozed. He only catches a glimpse of Mr. Xanatos standing with his arms crossed on the other side of the desk, looking down at him with an expression both amused and smug, before Puck's sudden movement makes the office chair spin. By the time it comes around again, it is Owen in Puck's place, back straight and glasses being calmly adjusted on his nose.

"I apologize, sir."

Xanatos laughs. He leans his hip against the side of the desk, dressed in his usual dark attire; black slacks, a long-sleeved, tightly buttoned gray shirt. Owen is of the humble opinion that Xanatos would look good in just about anything, but there is something about black that seems natural on him, as if the shadows are just as drawn to Xanatos as much as he is to them.

Xanatos gestures with one arm. "Please, don't stop on my account." His head tilts, brown eyes warm and pleased. "It's nice to see him - you - again."

Owen shifts in the chair, straightening the knot of his red tie. "Mr. Xanatos, I really should be getting back to work -"

"Puck."

Owen freezes. He looks up.

Xanatos' smile broadens. "I've been pushing you hard lately."

"Lately?" Owen looks up at his boss over the rim of his glasses, an eyebrow raised.

"...Alright, always. I think you deserve a little relaxation time. Obviously being in your original form is more comfortable for you. So, by all means." Xanatos spreads his hands. "Be yourself."

Although tempted, Owen continues to eye him closely for several seconds. "Is this some sort of test, Mr. Xanatos?"

"Please." The human slides closer along the desk. He is nearly standing directly in front of the chair now. "I think we've reached a point in our relationship where you can call me David."

 _Relationship. David_. He feels like they're toeing a very visible line and he's not sure what that means.

Owen presses his lips into a thin line and ignores the distinct hum in his chest. "You didn't answer my question, sir."

"David."

Owen inhales sharply. "David."

"I'm not testing you. Just being … friendly." Xanatos - David - leans back on the desk, hands braced flat behind him, stretched out as smug as a cat in a sunlight beam.

"You're never friendly without an ulterior motive."

A hand goes to David's heart. "Owen. That's hurtful."

Noticeably, he doesn't deny the accusation.

Owen continues to stare at David - that is going to take some adjustment - for a long time in silence. He knows the man well enough by now to detect whether or not he's being facetious. An acquired skill for a fae when it comes to the most proficient liar of the human race, but one Owen is confident in after all this time.

So far as he can tell, David is doing nothing but enjoying himself by teasing Owen, making him purposefully uncomfortable, trying to see what makes him tick.

Owen sits back, the slightest quirk at the corner of his mouth. David is playing another one of his games.

Well, Owen has an idea who might just be his match.

He takes a long, deep breath until it fills his mock-human lungs, and as it rushes out of him the shell of Owen breaks down, for the second time that day, in brilliant puffs of pastel colored smoke.

Puck emerges, a phoenix in the ash, with a great sigh of relief, white hair rolling in unseen waves of energy as if he were underwater before it relaxes on his shoulders. He sinks back into the chair, legs crossed at the knee and draped over one arm. He looks up at Xanatos with a grin.

"Satisfied?"

David pushes off the desk and leans forward, elbows on his knees. "Very."

Puck tongues the inside of his cheek before looking away but not without taking note of the way David's pupils dilate when he does it.

Interesting.

Perhaps the feelings plaguing Puck just minutes before aren't as one-sided as he previously thought. Not that he was lacking evidence to suggest Xanatos was attracted to Owen; he had plenty, in fact. Xanatos was a naturally flirtatious person, however, so Puck refused to put much faith in it. Besides, that was Owen Xanatos brushed hands with, or let his eyes linger a bit too long on, or spoke thinly veiled innuendos to. Not Puck.

There was a difference. Wasn't there?

Puck's head falls back over the other arm of the chair. He closes his eyes. "My clients don't usually ask me to hang around in my fae form."

"Is that how you think of me? As a client?"

Puck cracks open one eye. "Do you not think of me as one of your employees? Simply providing you a service?"

"Owen is my employee." David smiles. "Not you."

"So you want the best of both worlds now?" Puck clicks his tongue. "Greedy."

David folds his arms and shrugs. "You know I like to have it all."

Puck looks pointedly around the massive office, located on the top floors of an enormous building with a huge, ancient castle perched on top. "Obviously. There are few things you desire that you don't already have."

David grins, as if Puck has said something extremely funny. "I can think of one thing in particular that I … _desire_ , that I've yet to have." One long leg raises from the floor, a foot hooking around the chair's arm under Puck's head and dragging it closer.

Puck can hear David's heartbeat from where he sits. It's climbing steadily by the second, the tempo of a song Puck has long since memorized.

Fae anatomy is not the same as humans; Puck does not have a heartbeat, but that does not mean he lacks a pulse. His is simply more of a hum than a beat, more magic than blood.

It, too, is climbing in intensity.

"Oh?" Puck swings his legs around until his feet touch the floor.

David's leg remains hitched up on the chair, the toe of his shoe still wrapped around the curve of the arm, pulling it closer another inch.

"Care to guess what that might be?" David's eyebrow jumps.

"I have an idea." Puck stands, slowly, never once losing David's eyes in the process. The space between them is small enough that it only takes a slight tilt of his body to close it, each of Puck's hands planting on the desk on either side of David's waist. Puck can smell David's breath now; peppermint gum.

Puck licks his lips, as if he could taste it, too.

"I'm just curious," Puck continues, watching David's pupils grow in size. "Why now? Why …" Puck pauses, shrugs one shoulder. "Like this?"

The raised eyebrow comes down again, flickering, confused at the final question Puck poised. But David is swift as ever, eyes slipping down Puck's tunic to the yellow cloth wrapped around the fae's waist. A single finger traces the edges of it, slipping between it and Puck's stomach, loosening it.

"Why now?" David echoes, head tilting, watching as the cloth finally gives way, falling in a circle to Puck's feet. The long purple tunic is more a dress now, hanging free around Puck's slender thighs. "Maybe because every day, our lives get a little more dangerous. Maybe because I want you to test me, for once." His eyes snap back to Puck's own. "Or maybe because if I wait a single day more, I might actually go crazy."

Puck hums, low in his throat, leaning closer still. Hands seize his narrow hips and in one heartbeat their positions are reversed; Puck's back is to the desk and now David towers over him. Sunlight clings to the edges of David's clothes and hair from the window beyond.

"Why not Owen?" Puck asks the question again, more directly, panting already under David's heavy stare.

David's smile broadens, baring teeth.

"If I wanted Owen," he says, "then I would have him."

David grabs the front of Puck's tunic with both hands and tears it in half in one swift motion, the fabric splitting straight down the middle to reveal the white chest beneath already heaving as Puck struggles for air. Puck shifts his shoulders to shake the garment off - in his haste to cast it aside, the ruined tunic clips the edge of Owen's stapler and it hits the floor with a bang. Neither of them spare it a second glance.

David's scalding, massive hand flattens in the small of Puck's back like it was forged to fit there, and Puck always loved the heat humans possess, how everything about them is hot - their blood, their temper, their passion. And all the more so David's, which burns every inch of Puck white as his hair, a trail of fire left in the wake of David's palm as it travels the length of Puck's spine. Large, thick fingers thread into the back of Puck's head and tighten so slowly, so secure, and Puck knows that with a flick of his wrist he could escape David's grip and appear on the other side of the world if he wanted, that in any universe he would always be more powerful than any human who had ever and would ever live, but David's mortal hands have a unique talent, a certain power all their own; they hold Puck in place, tethered at the hair with one, the other wound tight around his waist, and the thought of leaving them is such a terrible one that it doesn't so much as manifest in Puck's mind.

There isn't much of anything in his mind, if he's being completely honest; David has pulled Puck's head to the side and is working his mouth on the slope of Puck's neck like it's his last meal - no, like he's never tasted anything in his life. Sharp bites briefly interrupted by soft, wet kisses litter Puck's skin, red marks blooming in the wake of David's teeth like footprints in snow. Puck will admire them later in the mirror and follow them with his fingertips to remember everywhere David had been, his body a well plotted map, and David left a weary traveller.

Each of Puck's wiry legs wrap around David's waist, hooking together at the ankles at the base of the human's spine, and David uses the intoxicating closeness of their bodies to start a rhythm with his hips that would make the Devil himself blush; even through the layers of David's slacks and Puck's leggings, the friction is so intense that Puck gasps for breath in David's ear, the hands wrapped around David's shoulders grasping for purchase in the back of his shirt like Puck might float away if he doesn't have something to ground him.

David chuckles, the sound coming from somewhere low in his throat, half growl in form, and turns his attention from Puck's thoroughly bitten neck to one of the fae's sharply pointed ears. He takes the tender little lobe between his teeth and nips, sending a cascade of tremors through Puck's body, all the way to the feet wrapped around David's hips. Puck's toes curl inside his boots and he urges David closer by tightening his legs. David's response is to suck on Puck's earlobe hard, grinding his hips into Puck's narrow ones with enough force to shift the desk against the floor. Puck moans loudly, can feel the hot, thick length of David pressed against the inside of his thigh, and when Puck opens his eyes he expects to see the world spinning through the windows of David's office.

The city outside is still and quiet and _boring_ and Puck can't think of anywhere in the vast universe or any of its many planes of existence he'd rather be than right where he is, plowed firmly into David's desk in the office of the Eyrie Building.

Puck's hands find purpose again and slip from David's shoulders to either side of the human's face, coaxing him back. David releases Puck's ear and follows the gentle guidance of the hands on either cheek until his mouth hovers over Puck's. David's breath comes in rapid bursts against Puck's lips, and the force of his thrusts has slowed to a tempo more akin to a healthy human heartbeat. Even, steady movements, David's grip slipping free from Puck's hair so he can hold the fae by both hips, controlling the pace where they join. The black pools of David's pupils are blown open under their heavy lids so wide that the brown irises are barely visible, and Puck sees his flushed reflection in them, a spool of thread unraveling.

"When you chose Owen," Puck begins, out of breath, his mouth so close to David's that the words are spoken against the human's lips.

"I was choosing you," David says, equally breathless. Their noses brush at the tip as he cranes his head and leans his body forward until he envelopes Puck's entire vision. "It's always been you."

One of David's hands abandons Puck's hip to ghost along the fae's throat, a fingertip trailing the curve of his jaw, and ending its ascent by curling under Puck's chin. The warm pad of David's thumb brushes across Puck's lower lip. It trembles at the touch. Puck steals one more breath out of David's mouth before the distance between them is finally, finally closed, and Puck hadn't realized how deep his aching was for it until the ache was gone.

David kisses Puck like he's drinking from the fountain of youth. His lips are wet and firm and his tongue is the eighth wonder of the world so far as Puck is concerned. In a moment of bliss, all of the usual control Puck maintains around his magical energy unwinds - it moves through them both like an electric charge. David's muscles tense all around him like a shock and he moans, the sound vibrating on Puck's tongue. Puck shudders, opens his mouth wider to the taste of a human coming undone.

Almost as an afterthought, Puck reminds himself to reign the magic in. Humans have limitations, after all. Even David Xanatos. Although it would be interesting, Puck thinks, to see just where David's threshold is for sensual magic, and his hands flex in the back of the human's shirt with glee at the very idea.

David tilts his head back to breathe, and as he withdraws he sucks Puck's lower lip between his teeth, pulls on it just until it's painful before he lets go.

"What do you say to relocating to somewhere a little more … comfortable?" David says, his voice deep and out of breath.

"Where did you have in mind?" Puck says, head cocked, and he leans away to plant his hands on the desk behind him. He watches David's eyes trail down the length of his torso. "Beijing? The top of Mount Everest? The sandy beaches of Puerto Rico?"

"I was thinking more like my bedroom."

Puck tsks with a click of his tongue. "Unimaginative."

A single brow curves upward. David removes his hands from Puck's waist to place them flat on the desk on either side of him, leaning forward until he towers over the fae with a wide, hungry grin on his face. "I don't require exotic locations to find or create my own excitement," he says smoothly, reaching up to wrap his finger around the white tail of hair before Puck's ear. "Take us there and I'll show you just how imaginative I am."

"Your wish is my command," Puck purrs, raises one hand between them, and snaps his fingers.

The next moment, David is horizontal and hovering a few feet above his bed, facing the ceiling. Puck sits cross legged above him, chin in his hands, and with a quick wink, David falls to the bed, landing back first on the mattress with a slight bounce. He gasps for a breath and then laughs, gazing up at Puck fondly.

"Never gets old," he says.

"What?" Puck tilts his head again.

"You."

Puck quite nearly blushes like a schoolboy finally noticed by his crush. An impish grin curls at the corner of Puck's mouth instead. He shifts his eyes away from David and focuses on his boots, plucking them off one at a time, and then holding them far to the left and dropping them. They disappear before they have a chance to hit the floor. Straightening his legs, Puck lowers slowly, touching the tip of one foot in the middle of David's sternum. When David inhales, Puck rises with the motion, like a ballerina riding a wave.

"I can take any form you like." Puck spins on his arched toes too fast for David to see; when he faces the human again, his face is not his own. He leans down, the leg not balanced on David's chest rising above him in a straight line, and orange hair brushes David's lips. "I can be her," he says with the voice of Fox in his throat. He brings his leg back down and spins again - this time the space he occupies is wide, black wings outstretched and a taloned foot tearing a hole through the front of David's shirt. "Or him," he says with Goliath's deep growl.

Puck lifts from David's chest again, body morphing rapidly through every size, shape, and strain of creature on the planet until it is just a blur, like film on fast forward, and he can see David's eyes struggling to keep it all still.

"What will it be?"

David watches a moment longer in what Puck assumes to be awe, but then he suddenly shakes his head and sits up. He is not pleased. Puck can see it in the crease between his brows, the unsettled line formed by his lips pressed together.

"Stop," David says, and Puck immediately obeys, his body becoming solid and familiar and his own again. David shifts to kneel in front of the still hovering Puck, head slightly craned backward so he can meet the fae's eyes. "I already told you who I chose, didn't I?"

For the first time in his life, Puck doesn't have a quick quip. In fact, all of his words seemed to have scattered completely to the wind.

David stares up at him on a sea of crimson sheets. He reaches and wraps one large hand around Puck's ankle and draws him down like a child retrieving his wayward kite. Gently, David lowers Puck into his lap. Puck sits on David's knees with his legs a loose circle around the human's waist. He examines the hole in David's shirt left behind by an impersonating talon. Puck touches the bare skin through it and he can feel David's rapid pulse thrumming against his fingers.

"You're really not proving the greatness of the human imagination," Puck whispers, drawing a circle on David's skin.

The man takes Puck by the wrist, brings his hand to his mouth and kisses the center of Puck's palm. David's eyes close when he does it, like he's sampling something holy, something worth preserving in his memory.

"Is it so hard to believe," David says, sliding Puck's open hand onto his cheek, "that I prefer the real you instead of smoke and mirrors?"

"Yes," Puck answers bluntly. He holds David's eyes when he raises his brows at him. People have been using Puck for his tricks and talents for centuries, millenia. And he'd been happy to give them what they wanted - for a small price, of course.

No one wanted Puck. Everyone wanted what Puck could give them.

And, really, David chose Owen, sure, a lifetime of service from a loyal human bound by human limitations, a suit that Puck wore because it was fun and interesting and different - but wasn't Owen just another trick? Was David really any different from all the other humans he'd served before?

"Puck," David says, and rolls his body forward until Puck is forced to lie flat on the bed. David gathers both of Puck's wrist in one of his hands and pins them over the fae's head, applying pressure at the point where they meet as David slowly adjusts himself over the length of Puck's body. He straddles one of Puck's legs, one knee just barely pressed between them, making Puck bite his bottom lip hard. "If I wanted _anyone_ else, I would have them."

David is repeating himself, but this time his tone is absolute. It leaves no room for argument. He releases Puck's wrists but gives him a look that says _don't move_ , and Puck doesn't. Bowing his head over Puck's chest, David begins to kiss his way down the length of it, fingers trailing over the outline of Puck's trembling ribs through his skin.

"I'll prove it to you." David hovers low on Puck's abdomen, where Puck's bellybutton should have been, but there is none - just a smooth plane of pale skin.

"How?" Puck's breath catches in his throat when David presses his knee between Puck's legs. His hips buck involuntarily at the contact, and David grins wickedly up at him.

"You'll see," he says, pulls back, and slips his fingers under the waistband of Puck's leggings. His thumbs press against Puck's narrow hip bones, making the fae whimper and squirm. "Should I know anything about fae anatomy before I begin?"

Puck laughs, breathless. "May I?" He asks, referring to his wrists, and when David nods, he reaches down to thread his fingers into David's hair. The human's eyes close in brief bliss. When they open again, his eyes are all pupil, two black holes ready to consume Puck, the world, the stars.

He looks hungry. Puck trembles.

"Fae are not intimate with each other the way your kind is. We have no use for extra organs unless we're with humans. It can look however you want it to."

"Which do you like best?" David sits back a little. Puck's fingers trail down the side of his face. "Whatever you choose, I guarantee I will know what to do. I'm quite experienced."

What Puck wouldn't give for the Phoenix Gate so he could go back in time and watch all those experiences himself.

Grinning, Puck takes David by the wrist and guides the hand under the waistband of his leggings, between his legs.

"You know, male and female are strictly human ideas. Fae don't really have a distinction, except when dealing with humans. They assign us one or the other. It's very constricting. I think you as a race are more likely to accept that we exist before you'd ever stop to consider that there might be more than two genders in the world." David's hand has disappeared entirely into his leggings now, hot flesh pressing into Puck's damp center. "I am neither male nor female because such a thing doesn't exist for us," he continues, breath catching in his throat at the intoxicating contact. "But I've always been interpreted as and referred to as male. While not necessarily correct, it doesn't bother me. I wonder, though, if they knew what anatomy I generally possess when in a more human-like form … if they would still interpret me that way…"

Puck's words trail off as well as his thoughts, evaporating like water under the sun, and releases a loud, long moan as one of David's fingers slips inside of him, curled and stroking. David's thumb moves in agonizingly slow circles around his clitoris and Puck's back arches off the bed like he's being pulled by an invisible string. He gasps, mouth open wide, the hand still wrapped around David's wrist squeezing with all his strength.

"I told you I would know what to do." David's voice is dripping with satisfaction.

Another finger joins the first and the pace becomes slightly quicker, and Puck feels like he is unraveling at the seams. His eyes struggle to focus on the ceiling, half rolled into his head, but he catches David's face and suddenly cannot look away.

"You," Puck pants, hips bucking when David flicks his thumb straight across Puck's clitoris. "Ah," he cries, head falling back against the bed.

"What about me?"

"You." Puck tries to sit up on one elbow. It takes a lot of effort, all things considered. "Are still completely dressed."

"Hm," David hums. Another flick, another gasp rattling out of Puck's ribcage. "Do you want me to stop so I can disrobe?"

"Gods, no." Puck raises a shaking hand and snaps his fingers. David's buttoned shirt and slacks disappear, the lingering magical energy summoning goosebumps across his bronze skin. David shudders at the sudden exposure and Puck gazes up at him in slack-jawed awe.

Puck has seen David in various states of undress before, following a shower or one of their karate matches. For a man with such a busy schedule - and Puck should know, he manages nearly every minute of David's life as Owen - David maintains an incredible shape. The perfectionist in him, no doubt.

At the moment, Puck is thanking every spirit he knows for this.

Some fae find human forms unappetizing, too strange in their functions, too many muscles and ligaments and tendons. Too fragile. But Puck, ever the human enthusiast, is fascinated by them, how durable they are, how diverse. Humans sweat. Humans can break their bones in half and heal with no magical assistance. Humans can lose entire limbs and survive.

Human bodies are works of art as far as Puck is concerned and David Xanatos is an exceptional example.

As if reading his mind, David leans over Puck again, their chests flush together as David steals another kiss, allowing Puck to reach up and press his hands to David's hard chest, feeling the muscles move beneath his taut skin. David's fingers are moving more quickly inside Puck and with each thrust he goes a little bit deeper, and Puck moans into the human's mouth, David's fierce tongue slipping through his parted lips. Fae don't need to breathe the way humans do but Puck finds himself dizzy for air anyway, feels like he's floating …

"Puck." David pulls away and Puck isn't having any of it - he grabs him by the face and kisses him full on the mouth again. David laughs against his lips. Puck swallows the sound. "Puck," he tries again, finding the fae's heavy lidded eyes. "We're floating."

Blinking rapidly, Puck's vision sharpens. The ceiling is suddenly much, much closer. "It seems we are."

Using the empty space to his advantage, Puck flips David over, straddling his waist like a surfboard, and sits back, admiring David from above this time. The pair are suspended several feet above the bed and David doesn't once take his eyes from Puck's smug face.

"Tell me," Puck says, splaying his hands flat across David's chest. "In all of your many conquests, have you ever had a blowjob in midair?"

There is just the slightest catch in David's breath. His grin might just split his face in two. "Can't say I have. Care to indulge me?"

"Oh, it would be my pleasure." Puck wiggles his way down David's body until he's bent over the boxer briefs he had intentionally left in place. He cups one hand around the straining bulge at the center and uses the other to drag a single fingertip along the elastic waistband. David's head falls back, his hands becoming fists at his sides. Puck beams. "I must admit, Mr. Xanatos, seeing you like this is a dream." He begins massaging David through the fabric and watches a wave of muscles flex in response in both thighs, mesmerized. "Everyone is always at your mercy. Now you are at mine."

The very atoms that make up the fabric of the boxers vaporize with a single blink of Puck's eyes and David's cock springs free. It jumps in Puck's hand when he grabs it and David releases a sound he's never heard the likes of coming from him, something unrestrained and wild, more animal than man.

It makes Puck's toes curl.

"A little sensitive, are we?" Puck teases, biting his lip when David cranes his head upright again. David's lips are wet and open and panting and Puck has never seen David's eyes so unfocused, not even the few times he's witnessed the man drink. Like the entire world had dissolved all around him, like the center of the universe was wrapped around his legs.

Mimicking David's earlier torture, Puck moves his hand terribly slowly up and down, watching tension first tighten in David's legs and hips as he struggles to keep them still, and then little by little willing himself to relax. He melts before Puck's very eyes, hips rolling with the gradual pace of Puck's hand.

"It looks good on you," Puck says, almost off-hand.

"What does?" David manages to find his voice somehow but it is replaced swiftly with another moan when Puck pumps his hand once, twice, very quickly.

"Abandon." Puck holds David's eyes for a beat more before ducking his head and wrapping his lips tightly around the tip of David's cock.

"Jesus!"

"Wrong pantheon, darling." Puck grins devilishly when David looks down at him, tongue drawing circles at the head, and David looks like he's on the precipice of screaming.

Puck can't wait until he falls off the edge.

"You are … so …" David's words trail off as he tries to catch his breath.

"Cocky?" Puck giggles, then occupies his mouth with more important business.

David's back arches beautifully in the air and as Puck makes slow work of the cock sliding into his mouth, he slips a hand under David so he can trace the semi-circle of David's spine with the tip of his finger.

Puck can feel David's pulse climbing in his mouth. It is a sensation he cannot describe in human terms; he sees and feels it in colors and sounds - ruby windchime crystals making music in the wind, violet powder rising from the steady beats of ritual drums, deep dark blue ocean waves beating on the shore.

Hands fill Pucks white hair. "Look at me," David moans, and Puck does, mouth full, and the fingers tighten their hold and David bucks his hips and cracks a curse off his tongue at the sight.

Pulling away, Puck slides up David's legs and sits on his hips with David's cock between his legs, against his leggings. With another snap of his fingers, the final piece of clothing separating them also disappears, and hot human cock can finally touch fae flesh. Puck pulls his hair off of his neck with both arms, lifts it up and lets it fall back onto his shoulders, all while rocking his hips in such a way that David's head rubs directly on Puck's clit, and they're both gasping, trembling, gazing at the other like the whole world has gone dark and the only light that remains is coming from inside them.

Puck says, "I want you to fuck me."

David says, "You don't have to ask me twice."

And then it's David's turn to flip Puck over in the air, except this time they finally descend back to the mattress, slowly, sinking like an anchor in the sea, all while David kisses Puck like it's going to save his life.

When Puck's back meets the red sheets David wraps one hand around Puck's hip, the other around the opposite thigh, and slides inside of him, holding Puck's eyes for every inch.

Under David, full of David, Puck feels both small and vast at the same time.

In every other area of his life, David is never afraid to use his aggressive nature as a tool of coercion so long as the ends justify the means; manipulation is something he has never shied away from. It was David's complete disregard for boring human rules and morals and ethics, his quest for power and his determination to acquire it no matter the cost, that attracted Puck in the first place. But he is not like that here. Here, David is aggressive but not forceful, in control but not without acknowledging Puck's free will. David would stop at the first sign of hesitation, Puck knows this, and somehow that makes him all the more eager to relent, to let David's human hands mold his fae flesh like it is clay beneath his fingers.

And David had the chance to mold him already - to have any body he wanted underneath him, and he still chose Puck, and as he thrusts in and out of the fae, faster and harder and with sweat building on his brow and making Puck's fingers slip as he grasps for purchase on his back, David's hands touch him everywhere, following the curves of his sides and the slope of his neck and massaging his clitoris, and it is not in the hopes that he can build something new or different out of it, but rather to savor every inch that is Puck, the form Puck chooses for himself, the body that is rightfully his.

A delightful pressure is building in his gut, a tidal wave forming in his blood. Puck says something and he's not even sure if it's English, if it's even human, as the wave carries him higher and higher until he can't catch his breath anymore.

Once again, Puck's hold on his magic slips, and surge moves through them, the heat blooming where they are joined, and David moans, growls, leans down to capture Puck's lips again in a hot, fervent kiss.

"Come for me," David pants on Puck's lips, and Puck's toes curl, his fingers grab a handful of David's hair at the back of his head, and he sees stars on the inside of his eyelids, and he obeys. It cascades through him like tectonic plates shifting; quite literally rocking his world.

David is quick to fall off the edge with him and he cries out, and at first Puck thinks he's saying, "oh, fuck," but after a moment he realizes that it was "oh, Puck," and Puck's chest swells, and he suddenly feels like crying, and to keep himself from caving in to something so … so _human_ , he takes David's face in both hands and kisses him, soft and slow on the mouth.

When David pulls away to breathe he stays close. One trembling hand strokes the side of Puck's face as he presses his forehead to the fae's, both of their eyes closed. They breathe together. A smile crawls on David's lips and when he finally rolls flat on the bed it's with a content sigh, arms and legs spread wide, thoroughly and wonderfully spent.

Puck curls close to the human's side, drapes one arm over his chest and ghosts his lips across David's ear. "That was fun. Want to go again?"

David chuckles, chest shaking under Puck's arm. "Unfortunately, mortal flesh needs more than a minute to recuperate."

Puck clicks his tongue. "Such a shame. I could fix that." Two fingertips walk up the length of David's chest and then touch together, ready to snap, to pump magic through his human body and rejuvenate him again, but David reaches out and wraps his hand around Puck's, lowers it back to his chest.

"Just one minute," David says. His eyes are fixed on Puck's face like he's admiring something … well, beautiful.

An uncharacteristic flush blooms in Puck's cheeks. He can feel David's heart beating under his hand, becoming slow and even again. He wills his own fae pulse to match the human's frequency.

"I told you I would prove I wanted you." David sits up on his elbow, leaning slightly over Puck, all naked and glorious.

"I'm convinced, to say the least," Puck says, drawing a circle around one of David's nipples and biting his lip as it toughens at the contact.

"Mm," David shakes his head. "That wasn't it."

Puck's brows rise. "Oh? What is, then?"

David cups the side of Puck's face in his hand, slips his fingers in the fae's thick white hair and pushes it back. He leans down, kisses Puck gently on the lips, and pulls back just enough to say against them, "I release you."

Puck's eyes fly wide open in shock. He recoils but David keeps his hand on the side of his face, holding him still. "What?"

"I'm releasing you from the contract we made -"

Puck claps a hand tightly over David's mouth. His eyes roll for a moment as something otherworldly pulses between them, a bond nearly severed. When his eyes sharpen again, Puck glares hard at David. "What are you doing?!"

David waits patiently for the hand to be removed. Puck does so reluctantly, peeling away one finger at a time.

"I'm proving to you that I want you. Not because of what you are or what you can do, although it does make things … interesting. But I also want to know that you're here because you choose to be, not because you are bound."

Puck stares at him blankly for several long moments, searching his eyes - for what he isn't certain. For deceit. For a trick. For a lie. Puck knows these well.

He doesn't find them there.

And then Puck laughs, throws his head back and rattles with the sound, then shoves David flat on his back and climbs on top of him.

"You silly little human," Puck teases, grinning wide. "I came to you, remember? I _wanted_ to be bound to you. Because then I can't be taken by someone else." He looks up in thought. "Although there was that one time with Demona when I turned everyone into a gargoyle, but … that magic was dirty, alright. She _cheated_."

David is smiling, but he doesn't look convinced. His hands rest warm and steady on Puck's thighs. "You're sure?"

"David," Puck says, and realizes it's only the second time he's ever called him that. A shiver crawls up his spine. Bending over him, Puck shifts so he is straddling David's hips more comfortably, and hovers close to his mouth. "I am the master of loopholes. If I didn't want to be here, I wouldn't be." He licks his lips. "I can prove it to you."

A wicked grin spreads across David's face. "How?"

"You'll see." Puck raises his hand, thumb and middle finger pressed together. "Are you rejuvenated yet?"

The hands on his thighs tighten. David nods.

"Good. This time, I pick our destination. And for the record, exotic locations _do_ bring more excitement." Puck captures David's lips again, muffling a pleased, warm laugh.

Puck snaps his fingers. They disappear.


End file.
